From a lithograph.
]
Boieldieu now lived on contentedly in Paris until 1802, when he almost
wrecked his career in the same manner that his father had done; on March
19th of that year he married a ballet-dancer named Clotilde Mafleuroy,
and immediately began to taste the bitterness of conjugal misery. He
suddenly left Paris on this account and sought employment in Russia. He
was received in St. Petersburg with open arms, and the Czar Alexander at
once appointed him _capellmeister_ of the court. He produced little on
this barren soil however, and although he stayed there eight years, and
his contract called for three new operas and a number of military
marches annually, scarcely anything of this period has been preserved.
In 1810 the political horizon began to darken, and trouble between
Russia and France became so imminent that our composer again suddenly
packed up and returned to his beloved Paris, arriving at the beginning
of 1811. Here however he found everything changed. The Napoleonic wars
had exerted a deleterious influence on operatic patronage, and the
taste, too, had changed in some degree; Cherubini and Mehul were silent,
and Isouard alone ruled _Opera Comique_. Considerable jealousy of
Boieldieu was at this time displayed, and at first he was unsuccessful
in having any of the works he had written in Russia performed in Paris;
therefore he set himself to producing an original work, and in 1812,
“Jean de Paris,” a masterpiece of its kind, was produced at the Theatre
Feydeau. Again a success was won, although not such a phenomenal one as
the “Caliph of Bagdad” had attained, and for the next six years another
series of operas proved that the composer had not lost his hold upon the
Parisian public, and in addition to his own operas Boieldieu
collaborated with Cherubini and Isouard. Two years later a great success
attended the first production of “Le Chaperon Rouge,” but the composer
was so exhausted by this effort that he was obliged to rest for a while
from further composition. He now received the position of professor of
composition at the Conservatoire, taking the place of Mehul, and for
seven years he produced nothing more in opera. The crowning work was
however to come later. During a stay at his brother’s farm in Cormeilles
Boieldieu began composing once more. This time it was something far
beyond his previous efforts, it was a _chef d’œuvre_ in the domain of
comic opera,—the ever-beautiful “La Dame Blanche.” This masterwork was
performed in December, 1825, and at once awakened boundless enthusiasm.
Boieldieu was not much exhilarated by the result, for he seemed to feel
that he could never hope to equal this work again. Nevertheless he soon
attempted another subject, as if to ascertain if his surmises were
correct. Bouilly’s dull libretto, “Les Deux Nuits” was accepted, as much
from friendship as from any other motive. The new opera was finished in
1829, and made a flat failure, a result which hurt Boieldieu’s feelings
in an inordinate degree. He had brought back a pulmonary trouble from
Russia, and his disappointment seemed to aggravate the disease. He gave
up his position at the Conservatoire, feeling too weak to continue
teaching. The director of the _Opera Comique_ had given Boieldieu a
pension of 1200 francs for his great services to the art, but the
expulsion of Charles X. now came about, a new direction was installed,
the institution was found to be bankrupt, and the income from this
source ceased just when it was most needed. He had married again in
1827, and this time the union was a fortunate one, for in these final
days of trial, sickness, and pecuniary difficulty, his wife sustained
his drooping spirits with unswerving fidelity. She was a singer, Philis
by name, and was the mother of Boieldieu’s only son, a composer of good
attainments, but overshadowed by his father’s ability. Finally Louis
Philippe was established on the throne of France, and his minister, M.
Thiers, made speedy recognition of the value of Boieldieu’s work by
granting him an annual pension of 6,000 francs. It could not give back
the composer’s health, however, and, after a tour to Pisa he came back
worse. He had been obliged by poverty to take back his old position at
the Conservatoire, and made a brave effort to continue in it, but it was
useless; in another tour in hopeless search for health, he died at
Jarcy, October 8th, 1834. At the tomb his old companion and teacher,
Cherubini, gave a last tribute to the modest and talented nature that
had passed away so prematurely.
Boieldieu may be summed up in a single phrase as a Parisian Mozart. He
had Mozart’s gift of melody and grace, and in his later years something
of Mozart’s skill in harmonic and contrapuntal combination, but, unlike
Mozart, his work can be divided into three epochs, the third only being
comparable in _ensemble_ to the works of the German master. Boieldieu
has been ranked as the best composer of _opera comique_ that France ever
produced, and it is not too much to say that only Bizet has approached
him in characteristic touches and poetic inspiration. Three works are at
present the chief representatives of Boieldieu’s fame, “The Caliph of
Bagdad,” which shows his earliest method, “Jean de Paris,” which is a
good example of his second period, and “La Dame Blanche,” which is the
finest of all his operas, the best outcome of the French _opera comique_
school, and shows the composer in his third and best period of growth.
Boieldieu was never misled by the popular applause which was showered
upon him before it was fairly deserved. It has been well said that
“there is no heavier burden than a great name acquired too soon,” and it
is to the credit of Boieldieu that, although he acquired this burden
with “The Caliph of Bagdad,” which has had over a thousand performances
in France, he did not continue in the rather frivolous vein which had so
captivated his earliest audiences. His modest desire to advance may be
proven by the fact that when this opera was achieving its greatest
success, Cherubini reproached him with “Malheureux! are you not ashamed
of such an undeserved success?” when Boieldieu mildly begged for further
instruction, that he might do better in the future. He even courted the
opinions of his pupils in the Conservatoire as to portions of his work,
a rather dangerous meekness. Pretty tunes and marked rhythms are the
characteristics of this period. “Zoraime et Zulnare,” although at
present almost unknown, always remained a favorite of the composer, but
it is only another example of musicians not being the best judges of
their own works.
[Illustration:
Fac-simile musical manuscript written by Boieldieu.
]
“Benjowski” is a transition towards his second period. It has a Polish
plot written by Kotzebue, and its music has much local color. It was
composed in 1800, but was retouched by Boieldieu a quarter of a century
later, when he wittily said, “It smells of Russia leather!” The opening
quartette in this work is very dramatic.
“Ma Tante Aurore” may be said to begin the second period. It preserves
the brightness of the first period, but is much finer in its scoring,
and it is no exaggeration to say that in this matter Boieldieu surpassed
all of his contemporaries in France, with the sole exception of
Cherubini. The versatility displayed in this period speaks of growth.
The eight years spent in Russia may be passed over with but slight
comment, for of all that he wrote there, he cared to preserve but three
operas, “Rien de Trop,” “La Jeune Femme,” and “Les Voitures Versées.”
One cause of the weakness of the works of this period was the fact that
no good librettos were obtainable, and the composer was even obliged to
use many that had been set by other musicians.
Some commentators class “Jean de Paris” in the third period of
Boieldieu’s work. It is a beautiful and characteristic opera; the song
of the Princess, full of charming grace, the bold and dashing measures
of the page, and the stiff, ceremonious style of the music of the
Seneschal, are a few of the striking touches that go to make up a very
brilliant work which has not yet disappeared from the repertoire, but
when compared with “La Dame Blanche” the ensemble-writing is seen to be
inferior. In this latter opera, the climax of his works, Boieldieu did
not depart from the melodious character of his first and second periods,
but rather added to it. All through his career he clung to the
folk-song, and exactly as “Der Freischütz” was evolved by Weber from the
German _Volkslied_, so “La Dame Blanche” had its root in the French
_Chanson_. The libretto was evolved by Scribe from Scott’s works by
amalgamating the “Monastery” and “Guy Mannering,” but spite of the
introduction of “The Bush aboon Traquier” and “Robin Adair” (the latter
not a true Scotch song) the flavor is by no means Scotch either in
libretto or music. The harmonization of the finales of this opera is
beyond anything that has been attained in French _opera comique_, and
shows Boieldieu as a master in a school of which we find no traces in
“The Caliph of Bagdad.” Yet through all the three periods one finds the
thread of the _Chanson_ running melodiously. Music that is sincerely
national can never die, and the secret of the success of Boieldieu’s
operas, and their perennial freshness may be found in the fact that the
composer builded upon the music of his country, and there is no firmer
foundation possible.
[Illustration: Louis C. Elson]
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
[Illustration: